


The Winchesters

by Swordy



Series: Every Day is Exactly the Same [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blind Dean Winchester, Blindness, Curtain Fic, Fluff, Gen, POV Outsider, Permanent Injury, gencest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 19:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18723094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swordy/pseuds/Swordy
Summary: The town hasn't altered much in the years I've been away, but like anywhere, there arealwaysat least one or two changes that makes small town life a little more interesting.In Harmony's case, there are two.Set following the events of Every Day is Exactly the Same, the Winchesters catch the attention of someone new in town.





	The Winchesters

**Author's Note:**

> This fic exists simply because I can’t resist outsider POV stories. And curtain fics. Love me those boys settling down.
> 
> It was written 100% for my own amusement but posted as proof that Sam and Dean are still in my thoughts, even if I don’t write about them too often anymore. <3

I've worked here for about a week, since I came to live with my aunt and uncle in Harmony, and I'm getting to know the regular customers here at their store. Most of residents are like my relatives- born and bred here, their lives a story that anyone here could tell. I spent parts of my childhood here when my mom was sick so when Uncle Keith invited me to stay while I go to school in Topeka, it just made sense. The town hasn't altered much in the years I've been away, but like anywhere, there are _always_ at least one or two changes that makes small town life a little more interesting.

In Harmony's case, there are two.

They're brothers and they live alone in the old Thomson place, which they've completely transformed, so I've heard. The younger brother, Sam, is apparently a lawyer in Topeka - he sometimes comes into the store on his way home from work and he looks pretty hot in his suits. He's got this amazing hair - all dark and wavy and not lawyer-like at all. I keep expecting him to tie it back because it's definitely long enough for a ponytail—he never does, but sometimes he tucks it behind his ear while he’s talking. April says she's seen him jogging and he fixes it into a little man bun to keep it out of his face. I've told her she needs to get a photo because that's something I _definitely_ want to see.

The older brother, Dean is ridiculously attractive too, although you'd probably never guess they were brothers just by looking. Whereas Sam's got these sloping, almost fox-like eyes, Dean's are wide, and he's got these lips that people of any sex would kill for.

One thing's for certain - the Winchesters clearly went swimming in the most exclusive of gene pools. Dean is blind, so maybe that's why they've always stuck together. They're here now and arguing over what they're buying in that way that's so typical of close siblings. Sam, who's in jeans and a plaid shirt today, but still looks as hot, has the exasperated look of one who is used to these fights, but who will give in first, simply for the sake of keeping the peace.

"Dean, it's just _rice_."

"Just rice, my ass," Dean growls as he pushes the packet into Sam's chest. Sam makes an 'oof' in response. "Tell me what it says, and don't even consider lying because I'll know when I cook it and then I'll kick your ass for taking advantage of a blind guy."

Sam makes an indignant sounding noise, and even from over here I can see the high spots of colour that appear on his cheeks. Clearly there's a story there somewhere.

"It's basmati, okay?"

"Thank you. Now that wasn't too hard was it?"

They move down another aisle and their conversation disappears with them. I smile to myself and continue checking the inventory list that Uncle Keith left with me earlier in the day. I give it all of three seconds' attention before I start to smooth my hair and pull my t-shirt a little lower, because a touch more cleavage wouldn't hurt.

"Yeah? Give me one good reason why not," Sam continues as they appear again.

Dean replies something that sounds like ' _hellhounds_ ' but probably isn't, since that seems a weird thing for someone to say. Sam coughs and flicks a glance my way and I quickly pretend to be busy and therefore totally not listening. When he speaks again, their conversation is at a much lower volume and I give up trying to listen in.

I find myself wondering how old they are. Sam could still be in his late twenties or maybe his early thirties. I'm sure Clara said there's four years between them. Either way, Dean gives off the big brother vibes in spades.

"I'm just saying," Sam says as they round the corner together. "It wouldn't be a bad idea."

"I'll think about it," Dean answers gruffly in a way that marks the conversation as closed.

They approach the counter together, Dean handing the basket over to his brother who starts to empty it.

"Hey, guys," I say, suddenly self-conscious in the face of these two ridiculously handsome men. "How's it goin'?"

And then Sam smiles, and _shit_ , if I thought I felt awkward before it's now cranked up to an eleven.

"Hi," he breathes in a voice that's like honey. Then he frowns slightly, like something's just occurred to him. "You're, um, you're Keith's niece, Hannah, right?"

"Anna," I reply, "but, hey, you know, Hannah is totally okay." _Great_ , now I sound like a complete idiot. From behind Sam, Dean makes a noise which could mean anything.

"Sorry," Sam says as I start to ring through his purchases. "Clara told me you were coming to stay with them. You're at school in Topeka?"

"I am."

"Studying?"

"Oh, uh, political sciences."

"That's great," Sam replies, and oh my god, he's got honest-to-god _dimples_. "Oh, hey, I'm Sam and this is my brother, Dean. We've got the old Thompson place?"

"I know," I say and instantly kick myself for admitting that and sounding like a stupid stalker. Dean makes that noise again and this time I look at him. His gaze is off to my left, but his expression is amused. Great, now I'm blushing.

"Small town," I offer, part-apology, part-explanation. I drop the final item into the bag. "Well, that'll be twenty eight, ninety five please."

Sam hands me the bills and waves away the change. He passes one of the bags to his brother and then grabs the other himself.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Anna-not-Hannah."

Dean offers a grin and a little salute and then they're gone and finally I feel like I can breathe again, although it's going to take a little longer for the flush to fade from my cheeks. I lean against the counter and groan as I close my eyes. Hopefully they'll have forgotten about this excruciating encounter by the next time I have to see either one of them.

"Oh, and Anna?"

I jump, heart galloping, having not heard the door re-open. It's Sam again, and I instantly wonder how anyone that big can move so stealthily.

"Can you tell Clara that me and Dean will be coming for dinner this Sunday?"

"Sure," I squeak, in a voice that's not mine. Sam nods and then he's gone again.

This Sunday? Shit.

OoOoO

Aunt Clara is an _amazing_ cook. She's very modest and downplays the effort required to make the myriad dishes that we enjoy every day of the week. She particularly loves feeding those who maybe don't get to have regular family dinners so it's easy to see why she loves it when the Winchesters come over. Her face is alight as she bustles around her kitchen. Uncle Keith is no slouch when it comes to cooking, so we're all recruited to the preparations.

"Are we expecting anyone else?" I ask as I survey the spread and the contents of their refrigerator.

"No, just Sam and Dean."

I frown. "It's a lot of food."

Aunt Clara smiles, her hands expertly folding dough on the floured counter top.

"Have you seen the size of those boys? Sam alone is six feet five!"

I can feel my cheeks heating up again because yeah, I'd noticed. I turn my attention back to the refrigerator.

"Why is there so much pie?"

Aunt Clara laughs and I realise the dough she's currently working on will make pie number four.

"Dean, in particular is a big fan of my pies, but they won't take any home with them unless they think I made too much and they'll go to waste otherwise."

I doubt two smart guys like the Winchesters really fall for that line, but the arrangement is mutually beneficial since Aunt Clara can cook to her heart's content and not make Uncle Keith the size of a house.

"So how long have they lived here?" I ask, aiming for casual interest.

"Three years? Four years, maybe?" My aunt says, glancing at her husband for confirmation. He nods as he stirs the sauce in the pan on their large range cooker.

"Probably nearer four," he confirms.

"Sam worked at the store while he went to school. They've both done so well for themselves."

I watch as she rolls out the dough. There's pride in her smile, confirming that these brothers have been adopted my aunt and uncle, whether they realise it or not.

OoOoO

They arrive bang on time. Their car can be heard long before it pulls into the driveway and when I glance out of the window it's impossible not to be impressed by the immaculately kept vehicle as the midday sun bounces off the gleaming bodywork. I watch them climb from the car; Sam steps from the driver's side, bottle of wine in hand, and moves around to where his brother has emerged holding a crock pot. I can see how they instantly fall into sync, Dean's free hand coming to rest on the crook of Sam's elbow when they reach the steps.

Downstairs I hear the sound of the front door opening and my uncle and aunt greeting them both. There's real warmth in the exchanges and I smile. Keith and Clara never had kids of their own - and they were good with the hand that life dealt them- but having other friends and family close is clearly a source of joy for them. I head down, figuring it's better to face the inevitable sooner rather than later.

"Ooh," Aunt Clara says as I come into view, "here she is. This is Anna, my niece."

Sam does that dimply smile, God help me. "We've met at the store."

Clara claps her hand to her head as Sam extends his hand for mine. "Of course you have, silly me! And Dean as well?"

"We have," Dean answers in a warm voice much lower than his brother's. We shake hands too. Unlike Sam, he's got his shirt sleeves rolled up and it's impossible not to see the many scars on the inside of his arm. They're old - shiny and slick, silvered lines crisscrossing the pale skin. My eyes return to his face, somehow holding the smile. Sam is watching, even if Dean himself can't see my expression.

It's a warm day so we opt to sit outside for a bit before lunch. Dean explains he likes days like this when the light is good, because it helps what's left of his sight. I'll admit, I found him a little intimidating at first, but he's obviously a nice guy, even if he's not as sociable as Sam. It's fascinating to watch them together. Even though they're chatting to other people—Dean to my Uncle Keith, Sam to Aunt Clara and I—they both remain completely aware of each other. Initially, I figured it was because of Dean's disability, but I'm not actually sure that's the case at all. They're just so at ease with each other.

When a buzzer sounds in the kitchen, Aunt Clara announces it's time to eat. She insists our guests head straight to the table even though both of them offer to help. Instead, Sam opens the wine and pours everyone a glass.

The table is barely big enough to accommodate all the food. Once it's served, Aunt Clara tells Sam to serve him and Dean. Once again, they balk at being given preferential treatment, but my aunt is pretty formidable, even in the face of two grown men. I stifle a smile as Sam grabs a plate and begins to assemble a meal.

"Dean," he says, "you want me to tell you what there is?"

"Nope," Dean replies, brightly. "I've been here enough times to know that it's all awesome, so gimme some of everything."

I glance at my aunt, who is beaming in delight. With one plate loaded, Sam starts on his own. Neither of them pick up a utensil until we've all served ourselves, but Sam proceeds to quietly talk Dean through what he's got, using the hours on a clock to describe where on his plate everything is. Dean listens and nods, presumably committing all this to memory. Then everyone begins to eat.

For almost a full minute there’s nothing but the sound of cutlery on china, interspersed with appreciative noises. Then Uncle Keith asks Dean a question about cars and the conversation rumbles back to life. I’m happy to listen, but then Sam enquires about how I’m getting on at school and I find myself the subject of their collective attention as I tell them about my studies.

Talk then turns to more general topics: sports, tv shows, current events. I contribute telling them about a book I enjoyed recently that I’d ploughed through in a couple of days; a rarity for me if I’m honest.

"That was a great book," Dean agrees, nodding.

"Wow, do you read Braille?" I ask, impressed. One of my high school teachers had a sister who was blind and she explained how the dots became letters and words. I gotta say it seemed crazy complicated.

"Uh, no," Dean answers, "I read it before. I only lost my sight about a year ago, so I'm pretty new to it all. Dunno if I'll get round to learning Braille.” He pauses and a smile creeps onto his face. “But audio books are pretty awesome since they enable me to access all _sorts_ of quality literature."

The sentence hangs there for a moment until, out of my peripheral vision, I catch Sam shaking his head. When he sees me and my presumably confused expression, he swallows whatever he’s got in his mouth and laughs.

"Sorry, I’ll explain. I bought Dean _Fifty Shades of Grey_ as a joke a few months ago. I didn't think he'd actually listen to it."

Dean's grinning. "Sammy's just mad because I saved it for when we were going on a nice long road trip together and I insisted we put it on. I mean, I’d have _hated_ him to miss out on such an awesome gift."

Sam rolls his eyes, but he’s laughing again and those dimples reappear. It makes me simultaneously want to look away (whilst feeling horribly self-conscious) and stare unashamedly, good manners be damned. There’s such a warmth between him and Dean, it's fascinating to watch. Sam is so kind and attentive, yet he doesn’t mollycoddled his brother—Dean probably wouldn’t allow it anyway. For his part, Dean gives off a fiercely protective vibe, even though there’s nothing to protect Sam from. They seem to function like two parts of the same machine.

OoOoO

At nine pm, Sam announces that they should get going; he’s got an early meeting, followed by a hearing that he needs to do some final preparation for. Before they can leave there’s the obligatory manoeuvring of them politely trying to refuse leftovers—including that extra pie—and my aunt showing exactly why she’s in charge.Eventually they’re allowed out of the house once their arms are full of extra food.

They say goodnight, and I’m rewarded by Sam's dimpled smile and those cat-like eyes that are full of warmth and gratitude towards us all. It feels undeserved for me, but I love that my aunt and uncle clearly mean so much to them both. Once the door is closed, my aunt and I move to the window to watch them go. When they reach the car, Dean relinquishes the plates so that Sam can stow them carefully in the back as he feels his way into the passenger seat.

“They’re good boys,” Clara says. I can tell she’s smiling without having to look at her.

I make a murmur of agreement and find my aunt's gaze upon me, waiting for me to continue like she can hear the ellipsis in my reply.

“What is it?” she asks when my hesitation is obvious. I can feel the prickle of heat rising to my cheeks.

"Have you noticed Dean's arms? They’re full of scars."

I don't know what makes me mention it. I like them both, my aunt and uncle regard them almost as sons. In a rush, embarrassed, I get to the other point that’s been circling my brain for some time now.

"You think they really are brothers?" I ask.

I turn from the window when I realise Clara hasn’t answered; instead she's giving me a funny smile.

"I mean, not that it matters or anything," I add hastily. "I get why a gay couple might want to disguise their relationship in a small town like Harmony."

"They're brothers," my aunt confirms, sounding amused that I would have assumed otherwise. "What made you think they’re not?”

“Well,” I begin, wondering how best to articulate my thoughts about them. I gesture helplessly. “Watching them together... They’re almost like, well, like _soulmates_.”

Frankly I’m expecting Aunt Clara to laugh and I’m surprised when she doesn’t.

"The idea of soulmates is such a romantic one," she says wistfully, "but is it any less real, any less _valid_ when there's no actual romance?"

I consider the question. I think about the Winchesters. “No, I guess it isn’t.”

“Those boys. They’re both scarred physically and mentally by whatever they’ve lived through.” Clara's still smiling, but it's a bittersweet expression. “Sam told me once that they had a really tough upbringing. Maybe they wouldn’t even _be_ here if they hadn’t had each other. I think it’s easy to see why they’re happy sticking together.”

“Yeah,” I reply distractedly, a moment before the engine rumbles to life, causing us both to turn back to the window. In the passenger seat, Dean laughs, presumably at something Sam has just said.

When the car pulls away and turns to head off down the drive, I catch a glimpse of Sam and I can see that he’s laughing too. I realise in that moment that Sam Winchester is completely unobtainable. Like a movie star. Admittedly that’s not the best analogy—it’s not like he has legions of fans and my issue is simply that he'll never notice me amongst them. It’s more complicated than that. It’s the fact that his heart will always belong to another and to try and change that feels wrong—like it would upset the balance of the universe or something equally consequential.

Sam is Dean's and Dean is Sam's, just as sure as night follows day.

The car is at the end of the driveway now. In the fading light, the brakes glow red like the eyes of a demon. Sam makes the turn out onto the street before the sound of that distinct engine fades into the distance as the Winchesters make their way home.

**End**


End file.
